


Possession

by Petchricor



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-14 21:16:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4580457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petchricor/pseuds/Petchricor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ford isn't too found of Bill's newest choice in puppet</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Puppets

Mabel awoke with a start to the sound of the door closing with a bit of a loud bang. With a groan she sat up, rubbing her eyes a moment before taking a look around the room to see if anyone had come entered, but the room was entirely empty aside from herself. She shrugged and lay back down, Dipper had probably gotten up to go to the bathroom. A moment later she heard someone in the kitchen and sat back up, listening carefully to the rustling of what was probably silverware. She looked at the clock.  
  
“It’s three am,” she mumbled to herself. Without much thought to it Mabel tiredly stepped onto the ground, grabbing a stuffed animal as she did, and headed down the stairs, where she could see a light coming from the kitchen. Mabel squinted at the light and rubbed her eyes as they stung from it, once inside she could see Dipper rummaging through the drawers, looking for something. “Dipper? It’s three in the morning, what are you looking for for?” Mabel lowered the hand rubbing her eye and stared at the large butcher knife in Dipper’s right hand.  
  
“Perfect,” he said in a singsong voice, turning his head to look at Mabel with an eerie grin she recognized all to well. Mabel dropped her stuff toy in horror and took a step back. Bipper, as it clearly was, looked over his shoulder and laughed as if he just heard a good joke. “Our deal was that you’re my puppet, I never said that it was for onetime usage, Pine Tree!” He turned his head to face Mabel with a grin, twirling the knife to hold it upside-down in his hand. “Now, Shooting Star, you’re mine!” Mabel screamed in terror and ran from the kitchen, Bipper coming running out behind her, laughing his head off.  
  
**Meanwhile**  
  
“Listen, Stan, I don’t wanna talk about it, ok?” Ford snapped, closing the first journal with an angry hand. He turned to glare at his brother, who was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed and an irritated expression on his features. “Tensions are high as it is, the last thing I wanna talk about it that stupid demention!” After a few moments of glaring Stan relented, sighing heavily.  
  
“Fine. But will you at least get some sleep? You look like death warmed over,” Stan insisted. Ford considered a moment, turning to look at the journals and the blueprints before him. He sighed and nodded, putting the journals in his jacket pockets.  
  
“Ok, you’re right about that, I do need sleep,” Ford caved with a huff. Stan nodded and walked off, leading his brother to the elevator. Once Ford was in he pushed the button for the first floor and they rode up in silence, both refusing to look at each other. Ford straightened his jacket and cleared his throat, getting Stan’s attention. “You know, we could put this all behind us if you just apologized to me for-”  
  
“Apologize? What for? I didn’t break you machine on purpose and you’d think that spending thirty plus years working on getting you back would make up for my other accident!” Ford whipped around to face Stan and opened his mouth to snap back, but instead of a retort they each heard Mabel screaming as the elevator doors opened. “Mabel!” Stan rushed out of the elevator and up the stairs like a bullet, Ford following right behind as the shock faded.  
  
Stan shoved the vending machine open and yelled something Ford didn’t catch as he finally made his way up the stairs and out into the gift shop. The sight before him made Ford freeze, there was Stan, a knife in his hand while holding Mabel protectively behind him, Ford noted that she was bleeding from her left arm, and there was Dipper,  the front of his pajamas covered in blood and a grin on his face that made Ford shiver. Dipper laughed and Stan took a step away from him, somehow looking furious and concerned at the same time.  
  
“Dipper, what’s gotten into you?” Stan demanded harshly, Mabel starting to cry softly from behind him. Dipper turned to face Ford, who tensed at his far-to-wide pupils that had all but swallowed his irises. His grin grew impossibly wider and he opened his arms in dramatic greeting as he laughed.  
  
“Six Fingers! Long time, no see!” Ford’s blood ran cold at the way Dipper addressed him and took note of his eyes, that grin, his posture, and the fact that he had dared hurt Mabel. Ford’s eyes flew down into a furious glare and Bill merely laughed hysterically. “I forgot how adorable you look when you get mad at me!”  
  
“You’re disgusting!” Ford yelled at him, lunging forward to tackle Bill’s vessel to the ground, hearing Stan cry out from behind him. Bill only laughed as Ford pinned the twelve year old easily to the ground, one hand holding his wrists together. “Taking a child as your puppet, you make me sick, Cipher!” Bill spat in his face and Ford growled, wiping it with his free hand.  
  
“Good to know, Fingers! Whatchya gonna do, kill me? HA! Fat lot that would do you!” Bill grinned, that winning smile he wore just after his final strike. But Ford wasn’t gonna have it. He reached his free hand behind him.  
  
“Stan, give me the knife,” he ordered. He whipped his head around when he heard Stan start to protest. “I wont hurt him, I promise, but I need that knife!” Stan hesitated, looking unsure, but in the end he decided to trust his brother and handed over the knife. “Thank you.” Ford released Dipper’s wrists from his grasp and cut his left hand, causing Mabel to shriek. He tossed the knife to the ground and grabbed the wrists in his good hand. Bill wasn’t smiling anymore as he struggled with a growl.  
  
“What are you doing? Get off me!” he ordered, but Ford ignored him as he ripped the front of Dipper’s shirt to show his chest. Ford started to mutter a chant under his breath, drawing the blood across Dipper’s chest in little patterns and symbols, even with Bill struggle in his grasp. “Stop that! Don’t you fucking-” an unearthly screeching filled the shack as Dipper’s eyes burned gold. It all stopped and Dipper’s body went completely still, not even breathing. Once sure Bill was gone, Ford released his wrists.  
  
“What did you do to him?!” Stan demanded. Ford glanced over his shoulder to see that Stan had picked Mabel up and was hugging her close, he didn’t look at all happy. Before Ford could think of a proper answer Dipper starting coughing, and all attention fell on him. “Dipper?” Stan didn’t sound too sure even as he took a step closer and Mabel turned to look. Dipper opened his eyes and Ford took out his small flashlight, turning it on and checking his eyes instantly. “Ford!”  
  
“He’s gone,” Ford assured the boy, ignoring Stan as he re-pocketed the flashlight. “Are you all right?” Dipper didn’t respond, sitting up a bit and staring at his legs as he took in deep breaths. “Dipper, are you all right?” Dipper looked up at him and Ford’s expression softened at the tears in the boy’s eyes, he thought of how terrible it was back when Bill Cipher was after him. “Come here.” He pulled Dipper into a hug. After a moment Dipper started to cry heavily against Ford’s chest, his entire body trembling.  
  
“What just happened?” Stan asked slowly, setting Mabel down and kneeling next to Ford and Dipper, a concerned frown on his face. “What did you do?” Mabel grabbed onto Stan’s arm and leaned against him, still shaking and looking scared.  
  
“He...His body, was being used by a demon named Bill Cipher. I used a spell bound in blood to get rid of him,” Ford answered, Stan looking horrified. Ford sighed, looking down at Dipper sadly. “But it’s only temporary, I’ll have to come up with a more permanent solution later.” Stan nodded a little. “She’ll need that arm wrapped.” Stan looked over at Mabel, who raised her bleeding arm.  
  
“There’s a med. kit in the kitchen,” Stan told her, getting up. “Come on.” The two of them walked out of the gift shop and into the house. Ford watched them go before turning back to Dipper, who was still crying. Ford hugged him a little tighter.  
  
What horrors had Bill wrought on this innocent child?


	2. The Tattoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ford is insistent on Dipper getting a more permanent solution to his demon problem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've decided to make this into a mini-series thing. I'm not sure how many chapters there will be or if there will be any kind of story arc, but I guess we'll just have to see where it goes
> 
> I apologize in advance if this randomly just cuts off and stops getting updated

Dipper shifted his feet as he stood in the elevator next to his Great Uncle Ford, who was being quiet and serious. Dipper didn’t blame him, after the incident with Bill he was pretty uneasy too. The difference was that Dipper wasn’t hiding his nervousness while Ford was doing it like a pro. Dipper figured it must come with practice. The door opened and the two of them stepped into the lab, Dipper tensing a little.

Ford walked over towards a case on the desk. Dipper followed behind him, standing by the wooden chair he was sure he’d be sitting in within a few moments. Ford opened the case and pulled out what was inside, holding it carefully in his six fingered hands. Dipper’s left hand gripped the back of the chair painfully tight when he saw the tool in Ford’s hands, the one was was going to etch a permanent symbol on his back to keep Bill from possessing him again or taking control of his mind in any way.

“A-Are you sure this is r-really necessary?” Dipper asked nervously, mentally cursing himself as he stuttered. Ford paused a moment and turned to look at Dipper, his expression one of sympathy. He set the tool down and crouched in front of the child, placing a large hand on his shoulder.

“Yes, Dipper, I’m afraid it is,” he said gently. Dipper nodded and looked away, biting his lip. “It’ll be over before you know it, ok? I promise.” Dipper gave a weak, trusting smile and Ford stood. “I’m almost done getting it ready, take your shirt off.” Dipper hesitated but did as he was told, hanging his shirt over the back of the wooden chair. “Sit on it backwards so I can get at your shoulder.” Dipper swallowed and didn’t move at first, though Ford seemed to not notice. That or he was giving Dipper his time. Either way he was grateful. Dipper took in a deep breath and sat down, his arms slung over the back of the chair 

“My parents will not like this,” he mumbled into the back of the seat. Ford laughed a little and Dipper smiled. It certainly was going to be interesting going home and trying to hide a tattoo. At least it was on his shoulder, all he had to do was avoid wearing sleeveless tops and find some excuse not to go swimming. Ok, so it wasn’t going to be easy. He’d figure it out later.

“Put this in your mouth.” Dipper glanced over as Ford held out a small strip of leather. Confused he took it from him and looked it over. “It’s to help you not hurt your teeth.” Dipper swallowed. Oh. He placed the strip between his teeth. It tasted funny but he figured that was probably normal. He felt a large hand place itself in the middle of his back and Dipper took in a sharp breath. “You ready?” Dipper hesitated but nodded. He was as ready as he was ever going to be.

Ford muttered something, Dipper thought it might have been an apology, but whatever it had been was lost on him as a searing paint shout through his shoulder. He squealed in pain and surprise, his body shuddering as he forced himself to sit still, he didn’t want to mess Ford up. Dipper squeezed his eyes shut tight and started to recite certain parts from the journal he had memorized, his teeth digging into the leather strip. Dipper felt his eyes sting with tears and though he tried to stop them they just kept coming, streaming down his cheeks from the pain in his back.

The needle was moving painfully slow and even though Dipper knew it was because this symbol had to be exact he still hated it, this was going to take way longer than he would have liked. Was it over yet? Dipper must have said this out loud because Ford responded with a saddened ‘no’. Dipper whimpered and bit harder into the leather between his teeth, as though that would somehow take the pain away. It didn’t of course, but it was worth a try.

After what felt like forever the needle finally moved away and Dipper felt like he could breathe properly. He removed the leather from his mouth, shivering when he felt Ford blow on the new tattoo. Ford placed a hand on the plain shoulder and gave a soft pat before going to put the tool away. Dipper suck in a breath through his nose and let it out through his mouth.

“You did good,” Ford praised, clasping the case shut. Dipper managed a weak smile, reaching up and wiping away tears in what he hoped was a subtle way. Dipper got to his feet and tossed the strip onto the desk. “Wait to put your shirt on for a bit, it’ll hurt. And whatever you do, don't itch it, you can pick the ink out.” Dipper nodded and twisted to try and get a good look at it, but it didn’t really work. “Come ‘ere.”

Dipper squealed in surprise as Ford picked him up and set him on the desk, back towards the window. He rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a small mirror, holding it up so the Dipper could see the reflection in the window behind him. The skin around the tattoo was an angry red, making Dipper wince a little at the sight, but the tattoo itself was oddly familiar.

“Well, you match Stan, now,” Ford said with a chuckle, though it was a little pained as he set the mirror down. Dipper blinked and stared at Ford. “Sort of.” Dipper watched as Ford put the case away and helped Dipper off the desk. “Here’s your shirt, go upstairs and I’ll see you at dinner tonight.” Dipper wanted to ask questions but he had the strangest feeling he would be overstepping some serious bounds if he did. So, he took his shirt with a smile and buried the questions down 

“Ok, thanks Great Uncle Ford,” Dipper said gratefully. “See you tonight.” Reluctantly, Dipper headed for the elevator and hit the three button, watching as the door closed before he was taken upstairs. He matched Stan? Was this the same tattoo Stan had on his shoulder? And why had Ford sounded so sad? The elevator opened and Dipper sighed as he headed up the stairs. He may never know...


End file.
